Southern England just got its first significant snow of the winter, so the subject was a bit of a “no-brainer” for song 1 of FAWM 2019. Coincidentally, I knew I was going to be away from home for the weekend in which I’d need to come up with the song, so I took with me, my “mobile recording”/”survival” kit (the “Sidingsound Mobile” (!), based round a TASCAM DP-006 Pocketstudio digital 4-track).
Most of my instruments, as well as our Logic/Mac home project-studio setup, were at home, so I just had two ukuleles (my Risa Solid electric tenor - the one with me in my FAWM profile pic - and Enya EUR-X1 acoustic soprano), and the Pocket Operator PO-12 drum-machine and Stylophone Gen-X1 synthesiser from the Sidingsound Mobile “briefcase”. Once I’d worked out the music and lyrics, on the DP-006 I laid down a beat from the PO-12, played two parts on the Risa ukulele (through a Behringer GDI21 electric guitar pre-amp/DI pedal) and then a vocal track.
By this time, I’d reached the evening of the 3rd February (by which time I’d usually be onto track 2!), and realised I wasn’t due to go home until Monday 4th. Two problems here: I wanted to add a couple more instrumental parts, but said instruments were at home; and so was our Logic/Mac setup, on which I wanted to mix this song once finished.
The DP-006 has very rudimentary mixing features (no EQ or FX, just level/pan and master export), but as I didn’t want to hold this up any longer, I ran off a mix of the song as it stands, transferred it to my iPhone for a quick sonic “buff-up” in Grand Finale and Twisted Wave, and posted it to Dropbox (then here).
So, consider this a “work in progress”... but aren't they all here? 😝
I’m well aware, this time of year
The rain can turn to snow
I well remember closure school-days
All those years ago
Dragging sledges up the hill
To hurtle down the bank
For once, I know these memories
Are not a load of whitewashed fantasies
And so we caught a load last night
The drifts near-blocked our street
I tried to take the car down there
To soon admit defeat
But with a new-made coffee here
A new richer type of roast
I think I’ll somehow manage
With a pile of Bovril toast (and Gypsy Creams)
Despite these grave privations, our spirits stay aloft
The fire now crackles in the grate, marshmallows hot and soft
Perhaps a rescue party may later just appear
I may forget to signal them - we’re happy snowed in here